


Statues Don't Need Help

by Joyous32



Series: Simple Facts [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Overcoming Trauma, Post-Canon, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, location never specified
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-25 17:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20728199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joyous32/pseuds/Joyous32
Summary: Neil arrives home to discover Andrew at odds with himself.





	Statues Don't Need Help

It was late when Neil got home. Rubbing his eyes, he headed down the hall to see the bedroom light on, and the guestroom door closed. ‘Guestroom’ was one word for it anyway. When Nicky or Dan and Matt came to visit them, they stayed in the ‘guestroom’.

However, when Andrew was having one of his bad nights, it was his room. Some nights, Andrew needed space, and others, Andrew just needed Neil nearby. Once, Andrew had tried pressing through a bad night beside Neil. It hadn’t been good for their bedroom window.

No light filtered out from beneath the guestroom door, so Neil headed off to the main bedroom without disturbing Andrew. If Andrew decided to spend the night in the guestroom rather than their bedroom, Neil waking him up would not be appreciated. Neil figured he would probably end up with another scar across his chest if he woke Andrew tonight. Not by any intentional maliciousness of Andrew’s, but from Andrew’s split second, half asleep assumption that self-defense was needed.

In the bedroom, clothes and pillows were strewn across the floor. Neil raised an eyebrow at the scene that could be best described as ‘there appears to have been a struggle’. He was just happy to see that the window was still intact.

Neil checked the floor, the bathroom, and the closet, but Andrew’s armbands were nowhere to be found. This was no oddity, really. If Andrew was having a bad night, of course he kept his knives with him. But it always quickened Neil’s heart to realize that Andrew had isolated himself with knives readily available. 

Just as Neil sat down to remove his shoes, a scurry of movement sounded from the guestroom—from Andrew’s room. Neil heaved himself back up and went to knock on Andrew’s door. The light beyond had been turned on.

“Andrew?” Neil called, knowing not to walk in without explicit permission.

“Junkie,” Andrew called back hoarsely.

Neil opened the door to find Andrew leaning against the window from where he sat in a desk chair, cigarette in hand. Neil didn’t pass the threshold of the room, but then he saw the angry marks on Andrew’s bare forearms. And the blood.

“Andrew—”

“You already said you don’t understand this, so don’t try to.”

“Understand—what?”

“When you thought Seth killed himself.” Andrew looked back away from Neil when it took him too long to clue in on what Andrew was talking about. Finally, revelation crept onto Neil’s face. “Stop treating me like a cornered animal and get your ass in here.”

Neil entered the room and sat on the bed, not even close enough to touch Andrew. “Are you trying to kill yourself, Andrew?” Andrew didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he blew smoke out the window. Neil knew the answer even as he asked. If Andrew wanted himself dead, he’d be dead. “Are you having suicidal thoughts? Do I need to call Bee?” After all, _Andrew_ needed nothing. Neil, on the other hand, was not cut out for crisis work. Andrew trusted Neil, but Bee was typically the one Andrew talked to about this kind of stuff.

Neil pulled out his phone, but then Andrew shook his head. “Don’t bother her. You already knew this.” Andrew didn’t quite gesture to his arms, but Neil took the hint. He waited for Andrew to continue, but Andrew seemed to think Neil would be content with that answer.

“Okay. Yes,” Neil pressed, and Andrew spoke over him.

“Then shut the hell up and deal with knowing it.”

“Where are your knives?” Andrew gave him a harsh glance, so Neil dropped it.

“What do you want me to do, Andrew?” Neil asked, holding his hands out for his own eyes. They were worn with callouses overlapping scars, but that wasn’t anything new. “What happened?”

“I took a knife to my arms,” Andrew said conversationally.

“Before that.” Neil didn’t even flinch as he looked up from under his eyebrows to Andrew, who only shrugged and stubbed out his cigarette.

“Decaf?” He asked Neil, who sighed. It was Andrew’s dreams, Neil figured. It had to be. Nightmares woke him up, but what put him in the guestroom? What put the knife against his skin?

“At least let me clean you up first.” Neil followed Andrew out of the room.

“I don’t need your help.”

“But I need to help,” Neil retorted quickly, having expected this response from Andrew.

“Feeling a bit useless, are we?” Andrew snapped back but led the way to the bathroom.

Andrew sat on the closed toilet and held his forearms out for Neil to see. Neil didn’t give them a second glance. Instead, he gathered hydrogen peroxide and bandages from the cabinet. Neil knelt down in front of Andrew and began disinfecting his arms. He thought he felt Andrew’s eyes on him, but when he glanced up for a split second, Andrew was staring at the towel rack behind him.

Finally, Neil finished with the bandages, and placed his hand over one of Andrew’s arms. Andrew’s imitation of a statue continued. “You need to talk to me. I don’t know if I’ve done something wrong.”

“You are something wrong,” Andrew barked out lamely. Neil raised an eyebrow. “Don't be an idiot. What could you have done that’s wrong? You’ve been gone.”

“Is that it?”

“Why would I—no.” Andrew rubbed his eyes with the arm that Neil wasn’t currently holding. Neil wrenched his hand away on instinct at the word, so Andrew finally looked Neil in the eye.

“Andrew, this isn’t okay.” Neil pointed to Andrew’s bandaged arms instead of touching him again. “You’ve been doing better. What is it that you need to feel so badly that you’ll cut your arms up again?”

“Give me your phone,” Andrew decided, and Neil pulled it out. Neil saw Bee’s name on the screen before Andrew held it up to his own ear. Neil had reprogrammed Bee’s information into his phone when he realized that, while he might not need her, Andrew’s lack of need for anything else tended to require her. Silently, Neil hoped that it was late enough wherever Bee was that Andrew wasn’t waking her.

“Andrew,” Andrew replied when Bee picked up, most likely assuming it was Neil on the other end. “He can’t make me do anything.” Neil rolled his eyes. “Cut.” The answer to why Neil was worried enough to make Andrew call. “Yeah… Yeah … Both of us… Okay.” And with that, Andrew hung up.

“We have an appointment with her tomorrow afternoon," Andrew informed Neil nonchalantly. 

“_We_?”

“Like you said, I need to talk to you.” Andrew gave him a sarcastically meaningful look. Neil bit his lips to stop from grinning like an idiot, but Andrew gave him an unimpressed glance, having detected Neil’s silent triumph.

“Decaf?” Neil finally asked, and Andrew gave a sharp nod.


End file.
